


And Turn It On Again

by el_em_en_oh_pee



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Office, M/M, past Liam/OFC, this isn't an IT crowd AU but it also isn't NOT an IT crowd AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 06:28:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2955761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/el_em_en_oh_pee/pseuds/el_em_en_oh_pee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When everything in Liam's life goes to shit, Louis, his best mate from uni, calls him up and tells him there's a job opening in his department. In Scotland, which is, you know, really far away. Liam has never been one to run from his problems, but he needs a fresh start more than anything, so he packs up his dogs and the few things he owns that are 100% his and not something he shared with his ex. </p><p>In Aberdeen, he finds the fresh start he was looking for. He also finds Harry Styles, the in-house IT technician. While Liam isn't ready for any sort of new relationship yet, there's something about Harry... something <i>besides</i> the fact that he doesn't seem to know a single thing about computers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Turn It On Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badjujuboo (miztrezboo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miztrezboo/gifts).



> I'd like to thank [Stephanie](http://fannyann.tumblr.com) and [Kelsey](http://siempreniall.tumblr.com) for talking this through with me, helping me hammer out the details, and providing an additional set of eyes when I needed it!
> 
> Badjujuboo - this is a little bit of an inversion of and departure from what you asked for when you said you wanted an 'i keep calling tech support because you're helpful and your voice is really cute! au', sorry! I hope you like it though :)

"Welcome to hell," Louis says, a wide, wicked grin stretching across his face. "We're very glad you could come and work for us."

"You said it wasn't that bad!" Liam protests. He's stood in the middle of the atrium of the Edward Wright building, taking it all in. This is home now. He's got to get used to it. The heat is blasting from the radiators even though it's summer, so high that his cheeks are already feeling a bit dry from the air. It's colder outside than it was back home – his old home – though, so the heat will probably be welcome soon enough. "When you told me to apply, you said it was a great place to work!"

"I suppose it's more like purgatory now that classes aren't in session," Louis allows. He stretches his arms out. "Whether it's hell for you or hell for them students is up to you though, mate."

"Did you lie to get me to take a job in _Scotland_?" Liam asks. He doesn't have anything against Aberdeen, really, but it's so very _north_. He'd been perfectly happy in Leeds – but then, after Northern Foods started making people redundant left and right and everything with Caro went sour, Leeds had started to feel like a bit of a failure all around. And then his best friend from uni had told him to move up and start a new life in Scotland, that there was an opening in his department, so Liam packed up Brit and Loki and found a flat a short walk from the sea and begged Nicola to use her giant van to help him drive all his worldly goods so far north he isn't convinced he'll ever see the sun between October and March. 

"I would never," Louis says, slightly more seriously. He claps Liam on the back. "It's good to have you here, mate. Missed you."

"Yeah, yeah," says Liam, but he feels a bit warmer inside. It's nice, being missed. Being wanted around. Leeds didn't seem to want him around anymore; maybe Aberdeen will. A complete change is what's in order.

"So," Louis says, clapping his hands together. "A quick tour, then I'll get you settled?" Without waiting for Liam's response, he walks off down a hall to the left. "Over there is the admin block," he says, gesturing. "You'll be in there, of course; you've got your own little office and even a window of your very own. Which you know from your phoner, or course. We're all well jealous. A perfect escape route for when students come in for advising in very bad moods and you don't want to deal with them."

"Lovely," Liam says, dryly, and Louis shoots a grin back at him over his shoulder. "I expect we're walking right past it for a reason?"

"Obviously," Louis says. He points out the stairs – "Sociology and Politics can be accessed through there; Economics is through the stairs on the other side of the atrium because this building was well-designed and makes perfect sense." He pauses for effect, and Liam laughs dutifully to stave off any impending dread. Satisfied, Louis continues speaking as he bustles along down the hall. "There's a copy room through the doors at the end of the hall, but you can probably sweet-talk Deb in your office suite into making copies for you; she's got a copier for all the exams she has to print off for instructors and can generally be persuaded to help by a nice lad." From his tone, he has persuaded Deb to make him copies many, many times.

"I assume you'll make the appropriate introduction, then?" Liam says, and as Louis nods his assent, he trails his fingers along the moulding in the middle of the walls. It's rough, thick with multiple layers of paint. Back in uni, Liam worked construction over the summers. He'd do a much better job at this than the multiple layers that haven't even been stripped off between coats if they let him at it. But that's not his job anymore; he's got a proper desk and office and everything. His mum is so proud, but he kind of misses working with his hands. At Northern Foods sometimes he'd carry packages when they were misdirected, and at least that was something. Maybe here he'll be able to do something besides shuffle papers all day. Maybe he can strip and repaint his office if it's anything like the halls.

Maybe not.

Louis leads Liam through a set of double doors just to the right of the copy room. "Here's the kitchenette," he says. There's a microwave and a kettle and a fridge, and a collection of dilapidated couches off to the side. "Don't nap in here; Marv will catch sight of you and rip you a new one. This is for staff only; faculty have got their own kitchenettes in their departmental office suites. Students aren't allowed in here." He pauses, purses his lips, and amends: "Some students are allowed in because we like them. Only postgrads, though. I'll give you a list."

"Cheers," Liam says, rolling his eyes fondly. Knowing Louis, there are two or three postgrads he's grown quite chummy with, and he slips them special privileges and faces off any staff who protest. Louis is intense that way. Louis probably also uses the sociology faculty kitchenette, as that's where his office is. Liam can't decide whether it's likely that Louis only lets sociology postgrads use the kitchenette or whether he's expanded his reign throughout the entire building and given privileges to anyone who's made him laugh. He'll ask eventually, but Louis is already pushing out the door again and back down the corridor, and Liam has to hasten to catch up.

Louis leads Liam back to the stairwell. "Downstairs are our gods," he tells Liam, solemnly.

"IT?" Liam asks.

"IT," Louis confirms. "I dunno if they're there right now; Nialler usually insists they all go for lunch for, like, two hours during holidays and claims it's for team building. Generally I'd go with them, but."

"But you're stuck leading me around," Liam says, deadpan.

"Yes, it's quite the hardship," Louis says, grinning at Liam again. "I'll show you the way, though." So he takes Liam down the stairs into a creaky hall that smells slightly musty and pushes open a heavy door to the left. It sticks slightly, then jams open. There are two desks inside, each decked out with magnificent computers. "Niall's desk," Louis says, pointing to the desk by the radiator. He jabs his thumb towards the one tucked against the wall next to the door. "And Harry's. Never, ever ask Harry for any help whatsoever with anything related to computers. He's rubbish at them. Always go to Niall."

"If Harry's rubbish at computers…" Liam says, frowning.

"He's a charmer and everyone loves him," Louis says. "And he's very handy for reaching things up high. Don't get me wrong; I _adore_ Harry. But he'll only fuck up your computer more unless it's a very particular sort of problem. Always go to Niall."

"Noted," says Liam. He even takes out his phone and puts a note in: _Dont ask Harry for help just ask Niall if computer fucks up_

"You'll meet them both tonight," says Louis. "We all go out to the pub across the road after work when students aren't in, so obviously you're coming, too."

"If you insist." There's an Olaf bobblehead on Harry's desk, and Liam flicks his carrot nose. The entire bobblehead knocks over onto its side. "Oops."

Louis snorts a laugh and reaches out, wraps a warm hand around Liam's wrist and tugs him back to the door. "C'mon, let's get you settled into your office."

+++

Liam is dragging his chips through a puddle of vinegar when someone claps him on his back. He jumps and turns. A blond man with a wide grin is stood behind him. "So you and our Louis were flatmates in uni, I hear!"

"Unfortunately, yes," Liam says dryly. He's not actually kidding, because the first two months they lived in halls together, Louis absolutely hated Liam and Liam absolutely hated Louis right back and they would glare at each other over the kettle in the kitchen whilst Liam made certain to be extra-loud in opening and closing the fridge and rattling pots and pans and plates about because Louis was inevitably hungover, because Louis was always a bit cruel when he teased Liam, instead of coming from a place of kindness like he did with the rest of their flatmates. It had escalated into a prank war, which had then escalated into a wonderful friendship founded on the principle of wreaking havoc together, except then they had got into loads of trouble on a regular basis instead.

They ended up living together all three years. Liam wouldn't give the experience up for the world now, but he still doesn't understand how they managed to get through it all without getting kicked out and with only losing their security deposit on one of the places they rented.

The bloke stares at him for a long moment, his bright eyes assessing Liam carefully, before he bursts out laughing. "Louis said you were funny," he says, and claps Liam on the shoulder again. "I'm Niall."

"Ah," says Liam, remembering the IT room in the basement of the building. "One of our resident building gods, then?"

"I like you," Niall says. He reaches over and swipes one of Liam's chips. "What're you drinking? I'll buy next round."

"Oh," says Liam. "Just the cider on tap. Cheers."

"Sure thing," says Niall. "Haz? The usual?"

"Yeah." A man Liam hadn't noticed emerges from behind Niall and pulls out the chair next to Liam. He's stunningly beautiful. "Thanks, mate." He sits down as Niall shuffles off to join Louis, who is stood at the bar, waiting. He studies Liam quietly and then smiles, extending a hand. "I'm Harry."

"Liam," Liam says. Harry's hand is warm and a bit moist, but not entirely unpleasantly so. "You're the other computer genius?"

"And you're the one who melted poor Olaf," Harry says. Liam can't quite read Harry's expression – is he upset? pleased? – till his lips quirk up. "Louis told me."

"Guilty as charged, I'm afraid," Liam says. "My apologies."

"He's just a harmless snowman," says Harry. "How very dare you?"

"You can just call me Hans, I suppose," Liam says. He hasn't met anyone new with a sense of humour like his in ages. Since Caro, actually, but that's not something he wants to dwell on right now.

Harry purses his lips. "You aren't cold enough to be Hans, I think," he says. "To truly melt an innocent snowman as cruelly as you did, you'd have to be a hotter character." Which – what? He's silent after that for a long moment, and just as Liam is about to speak up, Harry says, "I'll get back to you on who. You like Disney films?"

"Pixar in particular," Liam says. "Toy Story's my favourite."

"Good lad," says Harry, at which point Louis comes sliding into the seat on the other side of Liam with a brimming pint and a wild look in his eyes.

"Grimshaw's here," he says. "We have to find another pub. Liam, finish your fish. Harry, help me with my beer. I told Niall to fetch the escape car. Hup to!"

"We eat at this pub every Wednesday," Harry says, not budging an inch. "Grimmy does, too. You know this."

"Yes, but he was a bigger pain than usual today," says Louis. "I can't be held accountable for my actions if we stay any longer. Blood will be on my hands, Harry. _Blood_."

"Who's—?" 

"Grimshaw is that new lecturer in the department I told you about," Louis tells Liam. "He's horrifying. If I'd been on the hiring committee we'd have given him an offer to stay far, far away from Aberdeen. He's been particularly dreadful all day and I won't have him in the same pub as me." He widens his eyes dramatically and spreads his hands. " _Blood_ ," he says again.

"Oh," says Liam, carefully ignoring Louis's dramatics. He's out of practise, ignoring Louis's dramatics. It's been a while since they've actually been together in person. "The guy who researches pop culture things?" He'd thought Louis had mentioned being thrilled about the hire, but maybe things had changed since that email. Liam didn't really keep up with everything very well last spring, what with breaking up with Caro and being let go and searching for a new job and a new flat and a new life. 

"That's the one," Louis says, face dark and seething. Dramatics aside, Liam hasn't seen Louis this angry since their second year of uni when one of his lecturers was being particularly unfair, so he's about to agree to going somewhere else when Harry leans in close to Liam's ear.

"By not being held accountable for his actions," he whispers, his breath puffing hot and damp against Liam's neck – Liam shivers at the feeling – "Louis _actually_ means they'll end up sleeping together again and having a giant row in the middle of the corridor at work about how it's unprofessional and a terrible idea and how much they loathe each other. And then Louis will fuck up all Nick's files again for another week." And – Oh. That makes loads more sense.

"What are you telling him?" Louis demands. "Alternate pub options?"

"Yes, I was telling him about how your second favourite pub is halfway across the city," Harry says, sitting back in his seat. 

"I'm sorry, mate, if we leave I'm going to have to go back to my flat and finish unpacking," Liam says. He's actually done unpacking, but he has so few things the flat feels really sparse. He needs furniture beyond packing crates and his bed, but for now he's been rearranging everything to try and spread it out a bit without letting Brit and Loki get into everything. He'd walked the dogs along the beach after Louis showed him around the office, and they loved being able to chase through the sand after the ratty old tennis ball he'd brought with them, but they're still keyed up from the move. 

"Fine," Louis says. He takes a long pull from his beer and slumps against the back of the seat. "I'll just keep my back to him."

"I'm sure you will," Harry says, very dryly. His phone dings, and he pulls it out. "Zayn's coming. He's just getting off the bus right now."

"What?" Niall says, coming up to the table. He's carrying three brimming glasses – Liam's cider, a pint of dark, and something clear and pungent. "I thought he was going to be chained to his desk for the next three weeks. Until he's finished his thesis, he said!"

Harry shrugs. "All he said is that he's coming," he says, and takes the clear drink from Niall. 

"Zayn is one of the few postgrads allowed to use the kitchenette," Louis tells Liam, and – of course one of Louis's special few go for drinks with him after work. 

"Why did he text just you?" Niall asks Harry. "I could've ordered him something if he told me he was coming!"

"Maybe that's why," Harry says. "You know he gets weirdly particular about his food when he's got big projects."

"I'm on a strictly crisps and oatmeal diet this week," someone new agrees. "And tea. So I'm not drinking tonight, but if I stared at my computer screen any more today I was going to scream. No offence, resident IT staff."

This new addition – Zayn, Liam presumes – is absolutely gorgeous. He's also got massive dark circles under his eyes. Liam recognises those circles – Caro was also a postgrad. 

"Offence taken," Harry says, but he's grinning, and Niall scoots over, half-off his seat so that Zayn can share. "Good to see you, mate."

"Good to see any human faces, to be honest," says Zayn, and then he looks directly at Liam. "Hi, I'm Zayn."

Liam extends a hand. "I'm Liam," he says. "I'm new in administration."

"Yeah, Louis mentioned something about that," Zayn says. He rubs at his eyes for a moment, stifles a yawn, and then says: "I actually went to uni with you two."

"You – what?"

"He actually went to classes, though," Louis says. "And he was clearly in different modules. You know. Sociology."

"That explains it," Liam says, even though he mostly went to classes, too. Zayn cracks a smile, though, so Liam smiles back. It's good to know that Louis has found a nice crew of people here in the wilds of Scotland. Although – "Louis, how is it that you've moved all the way to Scotland and so far everyone you've introduced me to is obviously _not Scottish_?"

"He's got a real prejudice, clearly," Harry says. 

Louis throws a bit of napkin at him. "These fuckers just never leave me alone," he says, mournfully. "Here I am, trying to find a nice Scottish person to settle down with, only to get Scot-blocked at every turn by these three lads."

"You're so full of shit," Niall says, fondly, and Liam lets himself relax back into his seat. This move might just end up being good for him.

+++

“Penis.”

“Penis!”

“PENIS!”

Liam looks up from his desk, startled. He's been here for almost a week now, but classes aren't in session yet and all the students around are still mostly postgrads. The voices sound familiar, though, and when he pokes his head out into the corridor, Niall is in the doorway to the kitchenette, yelling "PENIS" again at Louis, who is grinning manically in the atrium. 

"We're surrounded by children," Zayn says, coming up next to Liam with a man that Liam recognises very vaguely.

"I know," the man says, resignedly. He turns to Liam. "Nick Grimshaw. I work in Sociology."

"Liam Payne." Liam jerks his thumb behind him, back towards his office. "I work in there."

"Welcome to Aberdeen," Nick Grimshaw says. "Sorry about all the children."

"Louis is harmless, really," says Liam, loyally, if not entirely honestly. "Anyway, he was much more intense in uni."

"I shudder to think," says Nick, giving Liam a very pitying look indeed.

Zayn's eyes glint with humour. "I'm sure you do."

"I am on your defence committee, Malik, do watch your tongue," Nick says, but Zayn laughs, so Liam supposes it's all right. 

"Anyway, we'll see you later, Liam," Zayn says, patting Liam on the shoulder as he and Nick move on toward the door outside.

"Good luck with everything," Liam calls, and once they're safely gone, he checks that Niall and Louis are still in the corridor before shouting "PENIS" at the top of his lungs. A look of respect crosses Niall's face; Louis just looks fiercely proud. Everyone else in the office is out at lunch; there isn't anyone here to shock at all.

He's feeling a little more settled now. He's already got his routines set, even after just under a week, though they'll have to change when the school year starts. They're bracketed by his dogs – a morning run with both of them along the beach before breakfast, a quick break while everyone else is out to lunch for a walk up and down the street, and a long after-dinner stroll with them, which he uses to progressively explore his new town. It's nice, Aberdeen, though the buildings are all awfully grey. He's just a short walk from a Tesco Express, but there's a Morrisons and a Lidl within walking distance as well. Which is great, as he hasn't felt like driving once since he moved up from Leeds. He even jogs the mile to work every day, though Louis picks him up if it's particularly nasty out. The few times he's gone to meet people at a pub a little further out, he's been able to take a bus.

It's nice, having a routine. It's also nice that he's got Louis and Niall to shake things up every now and again.

+++

Liam is in the middle of finalising undergraduate meetings schedules when his computer blinks out. When he tries to switch it back on again, the screen lightens but nothing else happens.

"Fuck," he says, because he's never quite got the hang of remembering to save his work before it's done, and then: " _Fuck_ " when it doesn't respond to him shaking the monitor firmly. 

Oh, well. Niall's probably in his office. Harry might be, too. Harry's been on holiday visiting his sister in England since the day after Liam arrived in Aberdeen, but Liam vaguely recalls Niall mentioning that Harry's set to return sometime around now. 

He goes down the stairs to the IT office rather than phoning because he's beginning to feel stiff from sitting so long at his desk. "Nialler?" he calls, as he approaches the door to the IT offices – it's cracked open, but just slightly, and if he's not mistaken, that's country music he hears coming from inside.

"He's not here!" Harry calls back, as Liam pushes the door open. "Can I help you?"

"Oh," says Liam. "Where'd he go?"

"He's got meetings all day before he packs up to visit his new nephew in Ireland," Harry says, leaning back in his chair. He folds his hands back behind his head, elbows jutting out. "What can I do you for?"

"I- what?"

"What can I help you with?" Harry elaborates. "Besides knocking over my Olaf again, that is."

In response, Liam runs his fingers along the Olaf bobblehead and then picks it up, catching its head between his fingers so that it doesn't wiggle around. "My computer crashed," he says. Olaf's arm is poking against his thumb. "Won't turn on properly again."

"Oh," says Harry, frowning. "Did you try turning it off and on again?"

"It won't turn back on, Harry, that's the point."

"Right," Harry says, cheeks pinking. "Um. Well. Let's take a look at it, shall we?"

So Liam puts the Olaf bobblehead back down on Harry's desk as Harry comes around from behind his desk, and they troop back up to Liam's office. 

The very first thing Harry does is press the power button. When that fails to work, he unplugs the monitor and plugs it back in. This time, the screen flickers on briefly before it goes dark. Harry frowns, brow furrowing deep as he glares at the darkened screen. Then, suddenly, he slaps the side of it. Liam jumps back, but nothing else happens.

"What's the verdict, oh great IT guru?" Liam asks, after Harry's poked and prodded at the monitor and the CPU for a while.

"It would seem that your computer has shut off," says Harry, frowning deeper as he tries switching off the power strip everything's plugged into, and then turning it back on again.

"Yes," says Liam, patiently. "Have you any idea why?"

"Possibly a virus," Harry says, frowning slightly. "But maybe it's just grumpy and needs a rest."

This is possibly what Louis meant when he told Liam to only ask Niall for actual computer help. He forces himself to take a deep, calming breath – he cannot control this situation. Either he'll be able to recover his files, or he'll have to remake them. He's done it once before already, surely it can't be that difficult to do it again, and more quickly, too. "Can computers actually get grumpy?" he asks Harry.

"Well, obviously," says Harry. "They can get overheated and huffy and loud just like the rest of us. Except we don't turn into blue screens when we die, so."

"I see," says Liam. "Did they teach you this in IT school?"

Harry suddenly looks very shifty. "I, um. Did not actually go to IT school. I studied business administration."

"Oh? Then are you just some kind of tech whiz naturally?"

"Something like that," Harry says, and he pokes at the computer monitor again.

Somehow, it sputters on.

"See?" Harry says, delightedly, although he looks a bit surprised. "I've got _techno-magic_."

"I believe the term is technophile," Liam says, but Harry just looks at him blankly. _Someone_ hasn't seen very many superhero movies. "Thanks mate, I appreciate it. Can you get my files back?"

"That's an interesting question," says Harry. "Let's see." He sits in Liam's desk chair and pauses, his hands spread over the keyboard. They're very large, his hands. Wide fingers. Strong presentation. Liam clears his throat. "Um," says Harry. "I'll need you to put in your password. I've got the admin one, of course, but that won't help with _your_ files. Just program installation."

"Of course." Liam leans over Harry, and Harry scoots the chair a little to the side and closes his eyes. Liam types in his dogs' names and the year that he got each of them and stands back. "There," he says. 

"Cheers," says Harry. He opens up Excel and Word and navigates to the recovered files pane. The files are there, and he opens them. "Voila!" he says, looking as massively relieved as Liam feels. "I have recovered your files. Revere me."

"Yours is a true talent," Liam says, deadpan, and Harry beams at him. "Seriously though, mate, I appreciate it."

"No problem," says Harry. He claps Liam on the shoulder as he gets out of the seat. "Anytime." He pauses on his way out the door. "Nialler's gone for the day and Louis has plans Eleanor from Economics and Zayn's in meetings with his advisors all day. Fancy getting a spot of lunch with me around one?"

Liam considers the offer. He'd packed a ham and salad cream sandwich for a midday snack that morning, but he doesn’t know Harry very well yet, and Harry looks hopeful. "Sure," he says, and then: "Oh. No, I can't."

"I promise I'm good company," Harry says, earnestly. His eyes, Liam notes, are very wide and very green.

"It's not that," Liam says. "I've got dogs, you see. They need to be walked."

"Oh." Harry's silent for a moment, gnawing on his lower lip, before his eyes light up. "I could join you? If you don't mind."

"Not at all," Liam says. "If you don't mind walking to my flat to fetch the dogs and then back here after."

Harry shrugs. "Sun's out, for once," he says. "I could do with some exercise."

"Okay," Liam says. "If you're sure. I'll be heading out in about an hour; meet me in the atrium?"

"I'll be there." Harry lingers in the door for a moment longer, and then he's gone.

+++

"So," Harry says, as they make their way toward Liam's flat. The wind outside is chilly, but the sun cuts through that, mostly. Liam can smell the sea on the air. It's lovely. "Tell me about yourself, Liam. What's your life story? What brings you to Aberdeen?"

"Those are two entirely different stories, mate," Liam says. He hasn't been asked a question like this since – well, since Caro. Harry reminds him a lot of Caro in a lot of different ways. The sense of humour, the interest in other people's stories. The long hair. But Caro had delicate small hands and dark brown eyes and, by the end of everything, she either looked through Liam or away from Liam instead of at Liam when she was asking him perfunctory questions about his day. 

Harry's eyes are directly on Liam and he sounds genuinely interested when he says, "Then tell me both."

"When I was born, I was effectively dead," Liam says, because that's one of the three most interesting facts about himself. "Kidney stuff, but it fixed itself sometime during uni. Um. I trained for the Olympics when I was younger – running – but I was just a hair too slow. I also tried out for the X Factor when I was fourteen but Simon turned me away at Judge's Houses and I knuckled down and focused on school after that." He shrugs. "I went to uni and met Louis and when we stopped hating each other, we got on incredibly well."

"So he's said," Harry says. When Liam glances over, Harry's hair is flying into his face with the wind, and he pushes it back out of his face with one massive hand and ties it up in a bun. "He's never told us the Olympics or X Factor things or anything, though. That's really impressive, Liam."

Not impressive enough, Liam doesn’t say. He hadn't got through for either of those things. "Anyway," he says, uncomfortably. "He bounced around a bit after we finished uni and ended up here, but I stayed in Leeds and got an office job at Northern Foods. Moved in with my girlfriend and everything."

"Oh," Harry says, and when Liam looks at him, he's biting his lower lip again. "Did she move here with you?"

"No," says Liam. He's not certain how much he wants to tell Harry about the nasty bits of his past year – this is really only the second time he's ever really spent time with Harry – but Harry is looking at him, green eyes dark with compassion. Liam finds himself caught in the twist of Harry's mouth – gentle, and barely a smile at all. He decides to give Harry the gist of everything. "We broke up and I was made redundant at work – they were downsizing quite a bit, you know, with the economy the way it is – so Louis told me about this job and I moved here to take it."

"Oh," Harry says again, emphatically. His mouth twists in sympathy. "That's rough."

"Just needed a bit of a change, you know," Liam says. "New life and that. Leeds wasn't really for me anymore."

"It's good you're here," says Harry. "Aberdeen is good for, you know. Existing. Re-finding yourself, maybe."

"Yeah?" Liam asks. "How did you make your way here?"

Harry laughs. "Niall got me the job," he says. "We had a bit of a thing in uni, you know."

"A like," Liam pauses, gestures with his hands to indicate an intimate relationship, in an amorphous sense. "Thing?"

"Nah," Harry says, easily. "We were at different unis. It was more of a – we'd send each other different computer viruses we'd made to fix. So when the bakery me and my best mate Taylor tried to start failed, Niall called me up and told me he had an IT position for me. So I came, even though I'm really only good at removing really specialised viruses."

"So that's why Louis said to always ask Niall if I had computer problems," Liam says, musingly, and Harry gives a great loud startled bark of a laugh. 

"That arsehole," he says, but he says it impossibly fondly, and Liam relaxes slightly. He quite likes Harry, he decides. Harry seems like a good sort.

Brit and Loki clearly agree with him, barking loudly as soon as Liam pushes the door to his flat open and they see Harry behind him. Brit seems to develop quite the crush on Harry, headbutting his legs every time they slow down on their walk so that Harry can point out something else that he loves about Aberdeen. It may have something to do with the way he seems to have filled his pocket with the treats Liam keeps atop of the fridge when Liam had popped into the loo. He keeps sneaking them to her every time she nudges against him. It's impossibly cute, the way that Brit keeps licking his hands, so Liam hasn't got the heart to stop it from happening any more.

"I'm going to take you to the winter gardens," he tells Liam as they trudge back to the office after they've let Brit and Loki back into Liam's flat.

"It's summer," Liam says, nudging Harry with his elbow.

"They're open year-round, Liam," Harry says, nudging Liam right back. He shrugs. "I spent ages there when I first moved here, you know. After me and Taylor's bakery didn't work out and she had to move back to New York, I didn't feel much like baking at all anymore. But that was my main hobby, so I just. Went to the winter gardens and breathed, really. Walked around Duthie Park and stared at the river for hours, just trying to figure things out. Sometimes I took a kayak out and just sat, like." He glances at Liam. "Not saying that I know anything about how much you have to figure things out, but."

"Thanks, Harry," Liam says, touched. "Really. Maybe this weekend?"

"Perfect," Harry says. 

He touches Liam's arm when they part ways.

+++

It becomes a part of his routine, walking the dogs with Harry. Every day that it's nice out, Harry's stood waiting in the atrium when Liam closes up his office to jog back home. Liam finds himself watching the way Harry moves, because it's honestly fascinating. He walks with this mesmerizing grace, steps rolling into each other, even when his feet are all twisted in toward each other, but the second Harry focuses on the conversation more than where he's going, he stumbles over every other crack in the sidewalk, it seems like.

Liam likes Harry. He's aware of this, in a distant sort of way. They all go out to the pub – Harry, and Liam, and Louis, and Zayn and Niall too – at least twice a week ("Taking advantage of all this space that'll go away when the students come flooding back in a few weeks," Louis says, sagely, like he was never the biggest terror of a student that his and Liam's – and Zayn's – uni had ever seen). It's nice, having a group of mates to fall into. By the end of everything, when Liam and Caro were in the final stretch of their relationship, everything they said to each other was so loaded with frustration and resignation that they couldn't tease each other anymore, and that's maybe what Liam missed most, being able to tease people.

It's nice that he's coming back into good-natured ribbing with Louis, too, because before uni, everything in the general vicinity of teasing felt loaded to Liam. It was Louis growing more gentle in his own teasing of Liam as they went from enemies to amicable flatmates to the best of mates that helped Liam grow used to it in the first place. It wasn't just Louis, of course; the rest of their mates helped a great deal, but seeing the vast difference between Louis's borderline-cruel way with words when they first met and didn't get along, to the way that he made Liam collapse with giggles when he teased him when they were closer than close – it didn't help Liam learn the difference between teasing with cruelty and teasing with kindness, but it helped Liam appreciate it.

It's also nice that now, most of the teasing is turned around on Louis. Tonight, Louis is telling them all about how he went into Grimshaw's office and swapped all the labels on his files. Louis has removed the notes about the year and radio station Nick's got transcripts from, or newspaper he's taken ads from, or the marketing plan he's analysed in the context of power structures and influencing public opinion on controversial matters, and switched them all to really inappropriate messages. 

"You mean," Harry says. "Messages like, 'I'm massively stupidly in love with you and I want to have your babies?'"

"No," Louis splutters. Liam finds himself watching Harry's face as Louis protests Harry's joke, rather than Louis's face as he protests the joke – that's how Liam knows that he likes Harry a little too much. "That's not – that's not biologically possible, Harry, neither me nor Nick have uteruses. Also I'm not in love with him," he adds, but it's belated, and Harry's eyes light up. 

Harry's mouth is too big, but he laughs with all of it, and Liam watches the way the skin around Harry's lips stretches with his honest-to-god guffaws for all of two seconds before he forces himself to duck his face in over his vodka lemonade. Liam doesn’t like beer, and Harry doesn’t either, and that's another thing they have in common, besides coming to Aberdeen after they failed at everything else and started building a new life for themselves. They also have the same favourite episodes of Friends and they both like Olaf.

This is a dangerous train of thought, though. Liam doesn't want to fancy anyone right now, not when he can still feel the ache in his heart when he thinks of Caro, thinks that maybe, if they'd both just tried a little bit harder, they'd still be in their tiny flat in Leeds with the dogs and all of Caro's zillions and zillions of notes for her thesis and Liam learning to cook because his job had set hours and he could make dinner for when she came back exhausted from dealing with students and her advisors and her degree at different hours every night. 

But that's not fair to either of them. They both got busy and they both got distracted and they both tried plenty hard and it just kept working less and less. It's better off this way. He's sacrificed familiarity, which he's always craved, but he can build it with someone else.

Just not yet.

Liam tunes back into the conversation when Louis kicks his foot under the table. He's got a glint in his eyes, and he's looking at Liam knowingly. Louis was there for Tom and Liz and the start of Caro, so he knows just what Liam is like when he's starting to fancy someone and trying not to. But all Louis says is, "Liam, they're trying to accuse me of wanting to sleep with _Nick Grimshaw_. Protect my virtue!"

"Haven't you already done, like, five times?" Liam asks. 

"That's disgusting, Liam, and I won't have such vulgar talk at my dinner table."

"Good job we're in a public house and not at your dinner table, then," Harry drawls, stretching out in his chair. His foot bumps against Liam's, and Liam very carefully and very casually doesn't move his feet. 

Harry doesn't apologise and doesn't move his feet either, so Liam studies the way the carbonation in his vodka lemonade bubbles up the side of the glass.

"You've been quiet tonight," Louis says, kindly, when they've all left the pub. He's giving Liam a ride back home, because Liam is a little tipsy and a lot tired and doesn't feel like walking back home right now.

"It's nothing," Liam says, which is a little bit of a lie, and then: "I'm fine."

"You fancy Harry," Louis says. It's absolutely a statement of fact rather than a question. Liam would be worried that he's being incredibly transparent, but, well. It's Louis. "I ought to tease you about it, given the way you were behaving all night long. Accusing me of liking Nick fucking Grimshaw, honestly."

"But you do," Liam says. He's too exhausted to not be confused. "I mean, you've got the weirdest fucking form of foreplay with that man, but swapping out _1950s BBC_ with _Nipple Clamps_ isn't something you, Louis Tomlinson, would do to anyone except someone that you like but you're not quite sure how to admit that you like them."

"He's fucking insufferable," Louis says. "I want to slap him all the time. His face is stupid and his hair is stupider and he's so, so good in bed, Liam, and that just makes everything loads worse."

Liam grins. Louis has always been a bit backwards in his crushes. "You'll sort it out," he says, as they get into Louis's car. He tilts his head back against the seat as Louis puts it in drive and lets his eyes close, feels the gaps between streetlights as waves of light pass over his eyelids. "I don't want to fancy Harry. It's too close to Caro."

"She really fucked you up, huh Liam," Louis says, quietly, and Liam shakes his head, eyes still closed.

"We fucked each other up," he says. "It wasn't so much that we were... cruel to each other, or anything, you know. We just – I woke up one day and she was right next to me in bed but we were miles and miles apart, you know? Too far to bridge the distance." 

"You're so careful with your heart," Louis says, and Liam suddenly gets that Louis is trying to be careful with his, too. He must really like Nick to be resisting him so very much. "That's probably best, with Harry."

"What do you mean?" 

Louis comes to a red light and stops, putting his indicator on. Liam can hear it tick. It's erratic, which means he's turning left; he's got to get that signal fixed. "Harry is a wonderful person, if shite at his job, and he's really great to people, but he becomes fascinated with people and then he stops being fascinated with them and becomes fascinated with someone else."

"Did that happen to you?" Liam asks, cautiously, but Louis laughs.

"Nah," he says. "I've just seen it happen. We've both been here a few years, you begin to notice some things."

"He and I have a lot in common," Liam says. Liam is fascinated by Harry. Liam is fascinated by the way his hair curls at the ends and the way that sometimes Harry wears nail varnish if he's been babysitting his neighbour's daughter and the way that he still doesn't know if he's tall as Harry or not because Harry always insists on wearing heeled boots. He's fascinated with the line of Harry's legs and the way that his thighs fit into his skinny jeans. He's fascinated enough with Harry, has watched Harry closely enough that he's fairly certain Harry isn't opposed to the idea of Liam as a potential Someone Special. But Liam doesn’t change fascinations as easily as Louis says Harry does, so there's a difference right there. Anyway, Liam still – he doesn't want another Caro situation, so it's best to avoid all dating prospects anyway. 

"You do," Louis says. He pulls up in front of Liam's flat and puts his car in park. "Liam?"

"Yeah?" says Liam, finally opening his eyes and sitting up straight. 

"I think Harry could be good for you," Louis says. "You've been a little quieter since Caro, you know? I know you really loved her a lot, and like – I'm not saying that you need a distraction to get over her, but –"

"Harry _is_ very distracting," Liam allows.

"No," says Louis. "Well, yes, but also – no, that's not what I mean. I just – he's good at living in the now, yeah? I think that could be good for you."

Louis rarely gets this serious, and Liam feels warm all over. "Love you, Lou," he says, reaching across the emergency brake to rest his hand on Louis's arm. "You're my best mate, you know?"

"Of course I am," Louis blusters, which is his standard reaction to any genuine compliment that he doesn’t quite know what to do with. "I'm fantastic, aren't I?"

"Don't let it get to your head," Liam teases. "It's just because Loki can't talk human."

"Fuck you," Louis says, laughing. "Get out of my car."

As Liam unlocks the door to his flat and lets the dogs greet him, paws propped on his legs and tongues wet and _very_ rough, he feels a little lighter, somehow.

+++

Liam and Harry have taken a paddle boat out in Duthie Park the weekend before fresher's week – "Clinging to the last illusion of peace," Harry had said, when he invited Liam out, and Liam had rolled his eyes but agreed to go anyway – and are pretending that they can feel the last rays of the summer sun even though it's cloudy as anything out and actually pretty chilly when Liam's phone rings. It's a ringtone he hasn't heard in ages, and one that he hadn't thought he'd ever hear again.

"Sorry," he tells Harry as he takes his phone out. He takes a deep breath, then answers it. "Hi, Caro."

He can feel Harry stiffen up next to him, eyebrows raising. By this point, Harry knows just about everything – about the end of Liam and Caro's relationship, all the details about how they stopped talking about the important things and then they just stopped talking at all before they decided that calling it quits was probably the best way forward. Harry knows that Liam still feels a little jagged inside, a little rough around the edges of his heart, because even though their relationship was over for ages before it was actually over, it still hurts that something he put years of his life into didn't go the distance. 

"Liam," she says. Her voice still feels so familiar, but it's strange now. Distant, maybe. "What are you up to?"

"Um," he says, looking around the pond. "Paddleboating. What about you?"

"I was just thinking," Caro says. "I've got my defence tomorrow, and my nan is in hospital again –"

"Oh no," Liam says immediately, sitting up. He loves Caro's nan, and he'd thought she was doing better. "Is it her heart again? Will she be okay?"

"No, she – she had a fall; it's her hip now," Caro says, and her voice shudders a little. "She'll be okay, though; Mum is going to take her home and put her up until she's shipshape."

"Okay," Liam says, settling back. He tries not to look at Harry, because Harry's got such a look of concern on his face and it squeezes at Liam's heart a little. "Okay. Give her a kiss for me when you see her, yeah? Tell her I know she's too tough for this to slow her down for very long."

"You could tell her yourself," Caro says, and there's something sharp in her voice, something that only came out during their worst fights and in the last few months they were dating, but she takes a deep breath and sighs. "Sorry. I'm a little – stressed. That's why I'm calling."

"That's why – what?"

Caro laughs in a way that tells Liam she truly, truly does not want to ask whatever question she's about to ask. "I miss those stupid fucking dogs," she says. "I was wondering – could I see them for a bit? Just so I don't go out of me head before my defence?"

They – they really didn't talk at all at the end, did they? Liam hadn't realised how much he hadn't talked to her, especially after they broke up, but it's really hitting home now. "Um," he says, carefully, closing his eyes. There's a sudden weight on his leg then, and when he opens them again, Harry's spread a hand over his thigh, just above the knee. Maybe it's meant to be reassuring – Liam glances at Harry's face, and he's got a very reassuring expression on – but it just feels like fire against Liam's skin, even through the fabric of his jeans. "I mean, you could, but I don't think you'd want to."

"Of course I want to," Caro says. "That's why I'm calling you, Liam."

"Well," says Liam. "Yes, but you see – Caro, I moved to Scotland. Found a new job up here."

Caro is silent for a very long time. "Oh," she says, finally. "Okay. I'm – I'm sorry for calling then, Liam. Sorry to disturb you."

"No, it's fine," Liam says. "Any time." He's quiet for a long time, too, and Caro clears her throat in the way she always used to do right before she hung up the phone, so Liam rushes to say, "Caro – good luck with your defence tomorrow. Not that you'll need it."

"Thanks, Li," she says, and she pauses before saying, "I'll tell my nan what you said" and ringing off without saying goodbye.

"You okay?" Harry asks, after Liam lets his phone fall back into his lap and leans as far back as the paddleboat allows, eyes closed again. 

"Yeah," says Liam, and then: "No. I mean. Maybe? Yes."

"What did she want?"

"To see the dogs," Liam says. Harry's hand is still on his leg. He can't notice anything else – not the cold of the breeze, nor the way he feels a lot less hollow after that call than he ever would have predicted – not when he can physically feel how large and warm Harry's hand is, pressed light against his jeans, the tips of his fingers just over his knee. "She's stressed."

Harry makes an apologetic noise in the back of his throat, but Liam shakes his head.

"It's okay," he tells Harry. He doesn't mean to, but when he sits up straight again, he dislodges Harry's hand in the process. He shouldn't feel disappointed about that, probably, but here he is. Clearing his throat, he amends his claim: " _I'm_ okay, actually."

"Okay," Harry says, beginning to smile. "Really? That's excellent."

"Yeah," Liam says. He takes a deep breath and smiles back at Harry. "I feel really good, actually. Less – you know, raw. I was talking to her and I realised that, you know, the edges aren't there anymore. Inside me."

"Told you this park was magic," Harry says, and Liam has to bite his tongue before he says anything about it maybe not being the park, per se, so much as the company. 

They stare at each other for a stupidly long time before Harry's eyes widen. He points over Liam's shoulder, tapping his arm for attention. "Look," he hisses, and when Liam looks, there's a mother duck and her babies – who are now nearly grown themselves – swimming across. "Look, the one on the end is so clumsy!"

It's true. The duckling at the end of the line keeps veering slightly off-course, splashing when it tries to correct itself. Somehow, it makes it look somewhat deliberate. "It's you, Harry," Liam says, laughing.

"Hey," Harry says, frowning. "I'll show you clumsy." And he leans over the edge of the paddleboat. It rocks gently with the movement, and Liam is just about to ask what Harry is doing when he turns around and brings up a giant handful of water. "Think fast," he says, and splashes it all over Liam. 

It's a perfect moment, kind of. The water is nasty and it drips down Liam's face – luckily, he was quick enough to shut his eyes before Harry splashed him – and if they were dating, Liam would kiss him now, kiss him with his shirt growing damper and colder by the second. It would, Liam thinks, be partly payback, because kissing Harry would mean the pond water would get on him, too.

It would also just be really nice. Liam very much wants to kiss Harry; his fingers ache with the urge. Hearing Caro, remembering just how much they're not anything anymore – it made him less worried, maybe, about what any new relationships might mean. Harry still reminds him of Caro, and that worries Liam, but maybe – maybe it's less than he thought at first.

But Harry is still Harry, and Liam is still Liam, and while Liam is pretty sure Harry might be interested, too, Liam doesn't want to kiss someone who might not be interested for very long. Liam doesn't want to kiss anyone until he's totally certain about himself, as well. So there's that. 

Still, though. "I really like you," he tells Harry, because he doesn't see the point in lying about it if it's true. He used to try to cover things up when he was younger. He'd keep the earnestness he felt about things he liked, or people he liked, close to his chest, because when he showed it off it often got mocked or ridiculed. He's trying to be more honest about himself again, though, and more honest about what he wants and likes and is. 

Harry smiles again, slower this time. "I really like you too, Liam."

"I just don't know if I'm ready to do anything about it yet," Liam says. "I'm sorry."

Harry's smile shrinks, but just a tiny bit. "That's okay," he says. "I'll still be here when you finish re-discovering yourself. If you finish re-discovering yourself. I'm still re-discovering myself as well, really."

"Really? Louis said –" Liam blurts, and then he makes a face. He hadn't meant to bring that up. It's only one of his reasons, what Louis said about Harry's fleeting fascination in people. Liam doesn't mean to make it seem like it's his only reason.

"Louis says a lot of things," Harry says. He looks like his thoughts are a million miles away, all of a sudden. "Not all of them are entirely accurate. I can be very serious about people. But only when they want me to be, Liam, I don't have to be very serious about you if you don't want."

Liam wants to ask Harry to give him some time, but then again, that's a promise that Liam doesn't quite want to make yet. "Harry," he says, but he doesn't know what to follow that up with. "Can you show me how to bake?"

Harry looks startled at that, then pleased. "I haven't baked in ages," he says. 

Harry has told Liam that baking was more part of his past life than his one in Aberdeen. "I know," he says. "You don't have to."

"No, I will," says Harry. "Maybe not right away, but. I will."

"Thanks," Liam says, and they lapse into a peaceful quiet. 

By the time they paddle back to the dock, Harry's hand has found Liam's, and Liam doesn't pull his away.

+++

Liam's printer breaks down on the first day of classes. While he'd love to walk down to IT, he's got an advisory meeting with a student scheduled soon, so he submits a work ticket.

Harry shows up twenty minutes later. "I hear you've got technological problems," he says, knocking on the open doorframe. "How can I sort you out?"

"It's my printer," Liam says, and he smirks at Harry. "Isn't that outside your realm of expertise?"

Harry pouts at Liam long enough that his thoughts flit to kissing Harry. He wonders if Harry would enjoy him sucking his lower lip into his mouth, maybe nibbling on it a little. He feels like maybe Harry would enjoy that. 

Liam has to shake himself back into focus when Harry starts to talk. "Maybe I won't help you after all," he says. "Since it's not a handcrafted virus that you need removed."

"No," Liam says, reaching out to Harry to stop him from leaving. His hand snags on Harry's wrist – entirely by accident, of _course_ \- and then slips a little, so they're basically holding hands loosely between them, even though Harry is standing up and Liam is sitting down and there's nearly three feet of space between them.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," Harry murmurs, and steps closer. Liam wants to kiss him so, so badly. Now might be the time, except he's still expecting a – now very late – student to show up at any minute. 

"Do we?" Liam asks, heart thudding as he does so.

Harry's eyes light up, but then they dart to the open door, and Deb outside, talking loudly to Ewen, the crude-yet-venerated reader in Politics, and all he says is, "Show me to the problem?"

"My printer," Liam says, and points to the side of his desk. There's an angry red light on. Liam had lifted the lid to investigate before he sent in the work ticket, but he hadn't seen anything in particular that was causing the light to turn on.

"Have you tried turning it off and on again?" Harry asks. Liam hadn't, so he covers up for the fact by groaning and elbowing Harry. Nicely, though. "You didn't, did you?"

"I don't like you at all," says Liam. "I don't know why I put up with you."

"That," Harry says, straightening up from where he's double-pressed the power button on the printer and putting one hand on each arm of Liam's desk chair. "Is a bold-faced lie."

He's leaning in so close his forehead is almost brushing against Liam's. Liam can feel the puffs of his breath from where he sits. He could sit forward just a bit and kiss Harry; they're getting closer and closer to doing so every passing day. 

He stays sitting back, though, because there's a burst of laughter from just outside and it startles him. "So, great computer genius," he says, dizzy with Harry's closeness. "What's the verdict on my printer?"

Harry lingers for a long moment before reluctantly drawing away and turning back to the printer. "The light's still on," he says, frowning. "Restarting it didn't work."

"Ha," Liam says, dryly, and Harry flips him off easily. Liam likes him so, so much. "See?"

Harry pokes hopelessly at the machine for a few minutes before turning back to Liam. His face is a hilarious mask of tragedy. "Don't laugh at me," he says, so of course Liam starts laughing right then. Harry frowns. "Okay, I mean it, Liam."

"Sorry," Liam says, not at all contrite.

" _Anyway_ ," says Harry, pointedly. "I haven't a clue about how to fix this. I'll have to call Niall up here."

"Awwww," Liam says, patting Harry on the arm. "You really are hopeless about technology when it's not a fancy handcrafted virus."

"Shut up," Harry whines, so Liam progresses to ruffling his hair consolingly. 

"I won't tell Louis," Liam promises, reassuringly. "Probably."

"You know," says Harry. "I'm not convinced that you didn't just fabricate this technological malady to get me up into your office."

Liam laughs. "I didn't," he says. "But that's actually not a bad idea. I'll just start spilling water on my keyboard whenever I want to see you."

"Please don't," Harry groans. "Please at least show me dignity by contracting a virus trying to watch porn in your office."

"We'll see," Liam says, and he kisses Harry on the cheek without thinking. 

They both freeze.

"Uh," Harry says eventually, cheeks very pink indeed. "I'll see you at the pub tonight?"

"I'll be there," Liam says, faintly.

When Harry leaves the office, he's trying to bite back a smile.

+++

"He's honestly more insufferable than ever with this giant conference coming up," Louis complains. He's four pints in and he hasn't stopped talking about Nick Grimshaw once for the past twenty minutes.

Nick Grimshaw is two tables away from theirs and clearly able to hear every word Louis is saying, given the look on his face, but that's neither here nor there.

Harry's sitting at the booth between Liam and Niall and he's scooted so close to Liam that Liam can feel Harry's body heat radiating through every stitch of his clothing. Harry's been running his fingertips along the outer seam of Liam's work trousers since Louis started talking about Nick Grimshaw, and Liam is fairly certain that the gooseflesh Harry is raising with his touch is prominent enough that it's about to crawl out of his skin and take flight. That's also neither here nor there. 

"Yeah," Zayn says, looking entirely disinterested. He's working on a paper for publication with Nick, and he's got an abstract for a poster accepted at the conference as well, so it may be that his indifference is forced for the sake of his sanity. Or maybe he's just really drunk; he's gone through a bottle and a half of wine already since they sat down. Liam is so, so glad that he never had it in him to apply for a postgraduate degree. "Tell me more. I'm dying to know."

"I will, thanks," Louis says, shrugging his shoulders and puffing out his chest in a way that resembles a very proud bird remarkably well. Harry digs his fingers slightly harder into Liam's leg; a silent laugh. "He's been all, 'finalizing the paper' this and 'Tomlinson, where the fuck did you put my notes on subtle 1960s anti-Romani propaganda advertisements in print magazines' that for _days_ now. I've half a mind to actually _take_ his notes on subtle anti-Romani propaganda advertisements and put them in with his notes on post-Stonewall pro-queer messages in contemporary music. _That'll_ show him."

"By which you mean you've been organizing everything in a way that's actually beneficial to him when he's not looking, you fucking sap," Niall says from Harry's other side.

Louis blushes, but doesn't deny it. "I'll do it, just you watch."

"I think you find his passion for his work cute," Zayn says. His eyes are heavy-lidded, like he's about to fall asleep directly into his glass of wine.

"Oh, is that what you think?" Louis demands.

Harry's fingers still on Liam's leg when he says, "You do know an awful lot about his work," so Liam puts his hand on top of Harry's and, stomach clenching, threads their fingers together. 

"Because he's the _golden child_ and bright new addition to the department," Louis says, rolling his eyes. "I never hear about anything else but his work."

"Probably because you keep bringing it up," Liam says, as Harry tugs his hand just free enough to turn it over so that they're palm-to-palm. It's too much. It's entirely too much. He looks over at Harry, whose profile is shadowed by the dark of the pub, but his lips are wet and red with the single vodka cranberry he's had since they arrived, and his hair is a riotous tangle from the wind on their walk from the office to the pub.

Liam wants so, so much with Harry, and he's starting to wonder why he's still resisting. He should stop resisting. He should just – he should just kiss Harry, snog him senseless. Drag him round back of the pub and sink down to his knees and see what Harry's packing in those impossibly tight jeans of his. The tongue is meant to be more sensitive than fingertips, right?

Maybe he shouldn't do all of that in front of the rest of the lads, though. That might not go over so well, particularly in the middle of a pub that, as everyone has been promising since he arrived in Aberdeen, is packed full of uni students. 

Suddenly he registers that everyone at the table is staring at him. Did he say something out loud?

But no, Louis just says, "Liam? Your response? Do you agree with me that Nick is going overboard in being annoying or with the others that I need to just tell him that I am, apparently, half in love with him?"

"Uh," Liam says, and blinks to try to clear his thoughts. It doesn't entirely work. "Neither. You're all the way in love with him, which is why you think he's annoying. Um. Sorry, I just remembered that I need to go feed and walk my dogs and Harry promised when he was fixing my printer today to come with me, because Loki is getting big and I'll need a second set of hands to keep him under control."

"I did?" Harry asks, looking over at Liam, and when Liam widens his eyes at him, he says, "Oh yes. That's what I offered to do when I was fixing your printer. Sorry, lads, I think we'll have to go. Now. Bye."

" _You_ fixed a _printer_?" Zayn asks, incredulous, and Niall laughs.

"You mean the printer that you asked me to go and fix again because you couldn't figure it out?"

"No, the other printer," Harry says, very vaguely. He's still staring at Liam, so Liam gets out of the booth. He doesn’t let go of Harry's hand even though the rest of the lads are staring, just uses the join to tug Harry out of the booth and lead him out of the pub.

They're stone-cold silent, still holding hands, while Harry drives them to Liam's flat, and while Liam leads him to the door. 

"Liam?" Harry says, finally, while Liam is fumbling to try to get his key into the lock. He keeps nearly dropping it."Is everything okay?"

"Is everything –" Liam drops the keys for real and turns around. Whatever. "Harry, I like you so, so much."

"Oh," Harry says, face relaxing into a smile. "Me too. I like you a lot too."

"I just didn't think I could go through another twenty seconds of Louis's giant secret love for Nick without finding out what it was like to kiss you," Liam explains, bending over to pick up his keys. "And stuff."

He's stopped by Harry's hand on his arm, though. "Stuff?" he asks, and then shakes his head. "Never mind. Liam, come here." He tugs Liam up and reaches out, cups Liam's cheek with one hand. He runs his thumb under the swell of Liam's lower lip. "Your lips are so gorgeous."

"You are," Liam says, stumbling forward a step. He runs a hand through the tangle of Harry's hair, pushing it back from his face until the heel of his hand is in line with Harry's hairline and his fingers are cupped around the back of Harry's skull, and uses that leverage to pull Harry's face in. He takes a deep breath. Harry smells musty from the basement office, and like some spicy kind of shampoo, and like Harry.

"Are you _smelling_ me?" Harry asks, laughing.

"No, I'm kissing you," Liam says, and before Harry can stop laughing he's leaning in the final inches and pressing his lips against Harry's. 

Harry's lips are impossibly soft, albeit slightly chapped, and they part with barely any pressure from Liam's. Liam sucks Harry's lower lip into his mouth, like he's been wanting to do since Harry was pouting at him so prettily earlier, and runs his tongue over it lightly. Harry tastes tart, like the cranberry juice he'd been drinking, and he sighs into Liam's mouth and crowds closer, one hand falling to Liam's waist. Liam can't be sure, but it feels like Harry threads a finger or two though his belt loops. 

"Liam," Harry breathes, when they part for air, and then: "Inside, please."

Liam somehow fumbles the door open and they stumble inside, but they hardly make it past shutting the door behind them before Liam's tangling his fingers in Harry's hair and yanking him in for a bruisingly hard kiss and Harry's pulling away to undo the top three buttons on Liam's shirt and scrape his teeth along Liam's collarbone. 

"Please," Liam says, and Harry unbuttons Liam's shirt the rest of the way, pushing it back. "Please, can I suck you off?"

Harry freezes. "You want to?" he asks, carefully, and Liam nods frantically.

"It's all I could think of in the pub," he admits.

Harry slumps against the wall and groans. "Yes, fuck, please," he says, undoing his belt and the button and zip on his jeans and shoving them down.

Liam sinks down on his knees and tugs Harry's boxers down low. He's only half-hard, but Liam always love the feeling of dicks chubbing up in his mouth, so he takes him in as deep as he can. It's been years – six or more – since he's given a blowjob, so he starts slow, but the musky-clean taste of Harry's cock on his tongue is so good, and the little whimpers that Harry is making are even better, so he frames Harry's hips with his hands and pushes them back against the wall. With that leverage, he takes Harry deeper, slowly, curling his tongue around the thick vein underneath Harry's dick.

Harry's big, but it's more the thickness of his cock than the length. Liam knows his mouth is getting stretched obscenely wide by it. It hurts a little, in a good way, but he has to pull off a little and pace himself because the stretch and burn of his mouth around Harry's thick cock isn't something he's recently used to. As Harry pushes his hands through Liam's hair and cradles the base of his skull with gentle fingers, Liam licks along the vein under Harry's cock, and then takes the head of Harry's cock into his mouth again and uses his lips to roll Harry's foreskin back. He swirls his tongue around it, and then pushes it hard against the slit in the tip.

"Liam, fuck," Harry says, so Liam takes him in deep again, as deep as he can. It's a respectable amount, he thinks, even if it's not the entire length. Good enough for his first time in six years, but he's going to have ample opportunity in the near future to work on his technique. Maybe he'll be able to regain his deepthroating skills before too long.

For now, though, he hums around Harry's cock, a song that he thinks Harry will appreciate both for the vibrations against his dick and for the song itself. Ignoring the way his own cock is straining against the zip of his work trousers, Liam presses harder against Harry's hips with one hand, takes the base of Harry's dick in his other hand, and focuses his efforts on the head, alternating between sucking and swirling his tongue around it, and harder at the slit, till Harry's hands tighten in his hair.

"Liam," Harry says, frantically, hips straining against Liam's hold, and then he's coming, shooting off in Liam's mouth. Liam relaxes his throat so that he can swallow Harry's come down. " _Fuck_." 

He reaches down to help Liam up and wraps an arm loosely around Liam's back, pulling at him until Liam slumps against Harry's chest and Harry can fumble at the openings of Liam's trousers until they're undone enough that he can shove his hand down the front.

It's rough, and a little too dry, and so, _so_ good when Harry finally gets his hand around Liam's cock. His grip is a little loose but he moves his hand fast, with surety, and Liam exhales wetly against Harry's neck. But Harry nudges at Liam's cheek with his nose until they can kiss again, Harry thrusting his tongue past Liam's lips fast and hard enough that that Liam is fairly certain that he's tasting for the remnants of his own spunk.

That's an incredibly hot thought, and Liam groans into Harry's mouth and pushes his hips closer to Harry's, and Harry tightens his hand around Liam's cock accordingly. Liam is so, so close from the blowjob and from the way that Harry is now biting at his lips, twisting his hand around the head of Liam's cock and thumbing over the slit, and when Harry scratches down Liam's back with his other hand, Liam tenses and comes all over his pants and nice trousers and Harry's hand.

Harry licks his hand clean, which is also very hot, and Liam's fairly certain his cock would attempt to give a feeble twitch of interest if he wasn't so spent. "God," he says, slumping against Harry all over again.

"Fuck," Harry agrees, gentling kisses against Liam's mouth as they calm down and Liam slowly regains the ability to stand on his own strength. "Um. Liam?"

"Yeah, Harry?"

"Remember when you were sucking my dick?"

"I seem to recall that," Liam says, dryly. "Vaguely. Maybe."

"Oh, hush," Harry says. "Were you humming Olaf's song from Frozen?"

"Maybe," Liam says, and switches the lights on as Harry dissolves into laughter.

Loki and Brit are both sat in the doorway to the kitchen staring at them. Brit's head is actually cocked to one side, her ears pricked up. Harry starts laughing harder. "Well," he says, gesturing loosely at the dogs. "That's a little awkward, innit?"

+++

Three weeks later, Liam submits a work ticket for a "Giant Porn Virus On My Computer" right before the rest of his office goes on their lunch break.

Harry is upstairs within ten minutes. "Where is it?" he asks, looking altogether too thrilled about some silly porn virus. "Let me at it, I've been dying to crack a new virus for ages."

Liam's boyfriend may actually be a giant nerd. Liam pushes his office door closed behind Harry. "Actually," he says. "I was thinking we could, you know. Create our own. Porn virus. You know. Minus the virus."

Harry, giant nerd that he is, honest-to-god looks _disappointed_ for a split second before he laughs. "That's _awful_ ," he says, approvingly, but he's already backing Liam against the door. He pushes Liam's button-up shirt aside so that he can get his teeth on Liam's neck. "I love it."

"I thought you might," Liam says, tilting his head to allow Harry greater access, but Harry's already pulling away with a grin.

"You're great," he says, punctuating his words with little pecks of his lips. "You're so, so great. I'm glad your life went to shambles and you moved here."

"Oh, fuck off," Liam says, pulling Harry in for a proper deep kiss. He is, too.

**Author's Note:**

> all i remember from my own single visit to duthie gardens is that i straight up took twenty-three pictures of the same damn plant in the winter gardens arid room, each with different camera settings (this was before the days of instagram). so that's why it's harry's favorite place in aberdeen.
> 
> [come say hi on tumblr](http://dulosis.tumblr.com) or [reblog the fic masterpost!](http://dulosis.tumblr.com/post/106580349386/fic-and-turn-it-on-again-1d-lirry)


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